attachment issues


We were dressed, ready to leave for worship when farmer husband heard bellowing. He backed pick-up to check inside shed. A new calf had arrived but mama was upset and attacking it. “You go on to church,” he told us, taking off his good coat.

She was a first-time mother; nervous and skittish post-partum. She circled stall wild-eyed. He put cow in head gate so calf could safely nurse and drink the vital colostrum. Even after hobbling cow’s back legs so she couldn’t kick and tying her head with short rope so she couldn’t box, she wasn’t bonding with calf.

I sternly lectured cow about her important role as mother. I spoke gently to baby, petting him in view of mama. We decided to try putting them together. There are moments caught between heartbeats…mama sniffed, then licked her baby.


Prosery is a short story (exactly 144 words). It includes a line from another author’s poem; in this case the poem, Coda, by MacNeice. Part flash fiction but based on a real experience 🙂  Kim is hosting at dVerse Poets pub today.

love is kind

Linking to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai in the month of love…


be my valentine

red roses, dark chocolates

bake a heart-shaped cake

mama and i shared birthday

brief time to celebrate love


❤  ❤   ❤


If someone gives you their heart, you can’t give it back without breaking it.









Winter chrysanthemum,
Wearing nothing
but its own light

© Mizuhara Shūōshi (1892-1981)


bright orb illuminates snow
february’s super moon

© lynn__ (1959- )





Linking this tan renga response to beautiful haiku at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai


-by Langston Hughes

Freedom will not come


Langston Hughes (Britannica)

Today, this year
Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right
As the other fellow has
To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I’m dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow’s bread.
Is a strong seed
In a great need.
I live here, too.
I want my freedom
Just as you.


freedom    (-by lynn)

freedom will not come
today, this year
nor ever
through socialism’s fear.

each individual has
intrinsic right to
to stand on two feet
and work the land.

i tire of hearing people say,
      capitalism is historically racist
      and the rich must now repay
it’s not freedom to be dead
with fascist bullet in your head.

must move us
to offer justice
to every shade
of children God made
renewal of faith and family
education, jobs, prosperity
less (not more) bureaucracy

ensures real freedom for you and me.




I acknowledge that often those of us with “privilege” have not reached out a hand to help others up.  We must commit to mutual respect and working to change unequal opportunities (not force outcomes).  I am linking to dVerse Poetics this week where HA is hosting…check out more poems inspired by Black History Month!

shameful shenanigans


Republicans repudiate
Democrats’ demagoguery
but dignity’s in “shitter”

Pelosi pouts while
Trump’s triumphant
tweeters all atwitter

Politics is sinking boat as
Iowa (still?) counts the vote!



I don’t often write about politics but the recent antics in the U.S. are (almost) laughable…

calving season begins!


Hello, world, my name is “Shadow”


It’s Monday morning and our skittish range heifers cautiously approach wooden feed bunk. Breakfast is a generous helping of fragrant silage and a bit of cow mix mineral supplements.  The farmer counts, re-counts furry heads and realizes one is missing.

He discovers her in the back of open cattle shed…with her newborn calf, first of the season!  Little black bull is healthy and already standing.  Our son carries him to shelter in the barn.  We soon coax mama into stall where they can nuzzle and nurse.


calf eyes wide to world

fresh cow licks her baby clean

new life birthed in spring



Linking this spring haibun to dVerse Poets pub where Frank hosts today…


lean to let go

raise white flag

give up all small

insecurities & fears

real need to be right

set-in-stone schedule

venting with vengeance

inappropriate apologies

right now it’s time to

pray with boldness

walk wisdom way

forgiven & free

embrace grace

hear humbly


janitorial dreams

drifting into sleep

i sometimes startle

wide awake to avoid

swerve into oncoming traffic

or drive off mountain curve

but in deeper dreams

in public places i

desperately search

for a clean restroom

to find only stalls with

unhinged doors and

plugged toilets



Linking to Lillian’s prompt at dVerse on dreams…mine being less than poetic.



my uncertainty


has a solo feel

vulnerably real…

if i publish a book

will anyone look?

read my haiku and

sneeze, hah-choo!

it would be a gift

i think, to kids and

grandkids  <wink>

or just for myself

to set on a shelf?

oh my, i sigh at the

cost, the expense

of time and money

task seems immense

my words must play

will write blog today



Talking to myself and linking to dVerse Poets where Frank suggests we write a soliloquy…

paint chip wishes

Linda offers paint chip poetry as a fun Friday prompt…click link to see colors 🙂


As rare as grace in The Scarlet Letter
or strong as faith size of mustard seed
as kleenex makes clown nose feel better
or dust bunny hides until it is freed
(would octopus lend a hand in need?)
I wish for luck when last frost is long over
surprised to find TWO four-leaf clover!




eb marries flo


waves write on the beach
gently rolling in…backing out
a steady rhythm in flowing harmony
receding foam reveals glistening treasures
of iridescent shell and wet seaweed
crab and sea star buffet for gulls
poetic scratches of driftwood

ideas hibernate in winter
fields lie fallow under drifting snow
soil and its creatures take rest
toads sleep deep under mud’s cover
birdsong stilled, winged to warmer climes
until spring melt when crocus buds
and world thinks green again

deliberate lunar phrases
wax bright and full of bold ideas
alchemy transforms night’s coal to silver
another month slowly passes while
queen of darkness softly wanes
new moon’s silence accentuates
diamond brilliance of stars!











Discuss chap. 11 of book On Being a Writer (Kroeker & Craig) at our writers’ tea about the balance of writing/rest.

at home with homeless


ask a homeless person
what is home to you?

ideally, it’s a safe place
comfortable and pleasant
my sanctuary from the world
where people love you…family

home is peace, not just a roof
maybe a tent on an ocean beach
even a sleeping bag under a bridge
anywhere you lay your head to rest

people look right past me
have you ever felt invisible?

after mom died, no family left
now depend on disability checks
you know how VA ignores veterans
no shelters for people with pets

self-medicating mental illness
spent rent money on crack
nobody will hire an ex-convict
hard when you lose everything

maybe we’re all homeless
looking for the key to security



Inspired by documentary, “Signs of Humanity” (2016) available on based on artist Willie Baronet’s coast to coast trip to collect (buy) signs from homeless people for his “We Are All Homeless” art exhibits.

Previous Older Entries